


something about you, i just can't fight

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: You’re pretty sure Dean’s figured out your big, stupid crush on him, and you’re sure it’s only a matter of time before you spontaneously combust.





	something about you, i just can't fight

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Inspired by Dean's s9 look. Scruff. I can't help it, y'all.

When Dean called and asked if you wanted to come to the bunker for the weekend, you didn’t think anything of it. You’ve stayed there plenty of times, sometimes for a few weeks when you were in between places, and you enjoy spending time with the Winchesters. They’re basically the closest friends you’ve got, and after a few stressful hunts, you’re happy for the distraction.

It’s only when you’re about halfway there that you start to replay the conversation you had with him, almost slamming on your brakes when you remember the last few words you exchanged.

_“Hey, kid. Got a hunt going this weekend?”_

_“Nope,” you reply, sitting cross-legged on your couch. “What’s up? Got a job?”_

_“This is a social call,” he tells you dryly, and you snort._

_“Do tell.”_

_“Just thought you could come down this weekend and stay for a few days. Haven’t seen you in awhile, and we should fill you in on a few things.”_

_You’re already getting up to pack a bag, smiling even though he can’t see you. “That sounds good, Dean. I’ll leave in the morning; that should get me there by late afternoon.”_

_“Awesome.” You can practically_ hear _his grin. A beat, and then, “Have you heard from that chick Ashley in while? She hunted that wendigo with us awhile back?”_

_You frown, a brief moment of jealousy rearing up inside you when he asks about her. “You don’t need to remind me who she is, she’s my best friend. And no, I haven’t heard from her. Why?” You ask, thinking of the unanswered text you sent to her a few days prior._

_“No reason. I just wanted to make sure we weren’t kidnapping you from all your other friends.”_

_You roll your eyes. “Yeah. Miss Popularity over here.”_

_He chuckles. “Drive safe.”_

_“See you soon.”_

Now, thinking back on it, you panic again, slamming on your brakes and pulling over to the shoulder of the highway. As soon as the car is in park you’re fumbling for your phone.

You scroll through your messages, and then you see it, sending your heart plummeting right to your stomach - a message intended for Ashley, but sent to Dean fucking Winchester accidentally.

_Ash, let’s get drinks this week! By the way, Sam sent me a pic from their last hunt, and Dean has a beard now, so I’ll probably die the next time I see him. Think of me fondly._

Your heart is racing and your cheeks are bright red.

“Oh, _shit_.”

.

.

You decide you’re just going to pretend you don’t know anything when you see Dean. You’ll just act like nothing is wrong, and like you didn’t just basically tell him that you have a big crush on him and his stupid bearded face. It’s fine. Maybe he’s already forgotten about the text that he was never supposed to get in the first place.

When you pull into the garage of the bunker and see the two of them standing there, you already know you’re wrong.

He looks smug.

You want to scream.

“Hey,” Sam says, getting to you first, drawing you into a hug before grabbing your bag out of the backseat.

“Hi, Sam.”

“What, no hug?” Dean asks innocently, looking put out, and you pray that your face doesn’t give anything away when you move into the circle of his arms.

He gives the best hugs, and you’re not too embarrassed that you don’t enjoy it, but you definitely jolt a little bit when he pulls away, his days-old stubble scratching your cheek lightly. “You alright?” He asks, frowning.

“Hmm? What? Oh, me? Yeah. Fine.”

Sam and Dean share a look. “O _kay_ ,” Sam says, “Let’s get some food. We’ve been waiting for you and I’m starving.”

You avoid Dean a little bit in the kitchen, sitting across from him instead, but you soon realize your mistake, because he’s _right there_ and he’s wearing that olive green shirt that brings out his eyes, and he’s _staring at you_ with that fucking smirk on his face.

You’re suddenly not sure how you’re going to make it through this weekend at all.

.

.

It’s two in the morning and you have to pee. It’s also freezing cold in your room and you’re really debating just lying here miserable all night.

You finally decide to get up and bolt to the bathroom, and on your way there, you round a corner and run smack into someone, causing you to yelp as a pair of strong arms quickly wrap around you, keeping you upright.

“Where’s the fire?” A deep voice asks, and you relax into his hold.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. You fucking scared me.”

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks, eyes traversing the length of your body, and you’re suddenly very conscious of your tank top and sleep shorts. “Heat’s on the fritz. I went down there to check it out already. Should warm up soon.”

“Had to go to the bathroom,” you explain, trying not to squirm because he’s still holding you, still looking at you with those eyes, and _shit_ his scruffy face is even more defined in the low light from the bunker corridors.

His left hand starts to drift, falling to the small of your back, and you suck in a deep breath when you see that his eyes aren’t on yours anymore, but on your mouth. He shakes himself out of it and pulls away, waiting for a half second before he rubs his jaw, making you bite back a whimper.

At the sound, his eyes snap to yours, but before he can open his mouth to say anything, you turn around, heading for the bathroom. “Gotta pee, see you in the morning, good night!”

You run, because you’re a chicken.

.

.

In the morning, you’re desperately trying to make it through breakfast without having a mental breakdown. You and Sam were up first, and when Dean came sauntering in, still not clean-shaven, you could have sworn he winked at you when he almost caught you staring.

You’re starting to go crazy. You have a whole list of reasons as to why you should never pursue anything with Dean Winchester. For one, you’re friends. Best friends, really. It would ruin it. Secondly, you know he’d ruin you. You already know he’s one of the best guys in the world, and how are you supposed to ever rebound from somebody like that? Third, he’s absolutely not allowed anywhere near you with that beard, because if he does, you’ll be too busy melting into a puddle of goo to – _stop it_ , you chastise yourself.

There’s no point in thinking like this. You’re going to make it through the weekend and then get out of here where you can have some peace. And wine.

“Hello, are you listening?” Sam asks, and when you look at him blankly, he rolls his eyes. “Okay. Look, have some pancakes, and then give me a hand with this research, okay?”

“Sure. But um– are you going to the library now?”

He looks confused. “… Yes?”

You’ll be alone with Dean. You try not to freak out. “Oh, okay, well… I’ll see you in a bit then.”

Sam leaves, and Dean eyes you from across the room where he’s leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over his chest. “Is it just me, or are you trying really hard not to be in the same room as me right now?”

“What? No, I’m not–”

“You ever hear from your friend?” He asks, leaving his post at the counter and taking a few slow steps towards you.

“Why are you so worried about Ashley?” You snap, not knowing how else to react, and you realize your mistake the minute that slow, lady-killing smile spreads across his face.

“I think you know why.” He stops just shy of towering over you where you’re sat at the table. You swallow hard, but refuse to play this game.

You stand too, but he’s still got a few inches on you, and doesn’t back up like you hoped he would, and you can feel the heat emanating off him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, but it comes out less defiant and more breathy.

He smirks again. “Oh no? Let me fill you in. I got a real interesting text message a few days ago.”

You stare at him, narrowing your eyes. “Time to switch providers, Dean.”

He takes a step even closer. “You know, you’ve been acting pretty squirrely the entire time you’ve been here. Can’t even look me in the eye. Any other time, I’d be worried we were dealing with something a little more life threatening, but I think I know what’s going on here.” He leans in, so he’s speaking right into your ear. “You want me.”

Your eyes slide shut of their own volition and you bite your lip hard to keep from reacting.

“You want me,” an arm slides around your waist, “And I know you’ve got all these reasons you’ve been keeping it a secret.” His free hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “But they’re bullshit, because I’ve wanted you damn near since we met.”

His last few words make you snap into action, pushing up onto your toes as you take his face in two hands, pulling him down towards you so you can kiss him. The minute his mouth meets yours, fire lights up your veins, and he groans into your mouth, pulling you tight against him.

Your fingertips scratch the stubble along his jaw lightly, and he shudders, rolling his hips against yours. You break away from him to try to catch your breath, and he chases your kiss, causing you to smile against his lips.

“If I would have known all I needed to do was just not shave for a few days, I would have done that a while ago.” He murmurs, his voice a low rasp. He sounds wrecked, and you can’t stand it, you just want him to touch you.

You tell him as much, and his eyes darken. “You’re sure?” He asks, and when you nod rapidly, not trusting your voice, he hoists you up, legs around his waist, and starts to walk quickly towards the bedrooms.

He stops every few feet to kiss you and to press you up against a wall, and you can’t remember the last time anything felt this good, when _anyone_ made you feel this good. You’re still embarrassed about how this entire thing happened, but you’re not going to let it ruin this for you, because this is _Dean_.

He kicks his bedroom door shut behind him and sets you down in front of him, grinning at you. “I’ve kind of thought about this a lot. I have a lot of ideas.”

You snort, the tension between you gone in a flash. “Me too.”

“Oh, I know you have. You’ve been telling _Ashley_ about me.” He grins, guiding you backwards until you hit the bed, and as you scoot yourself up towards the headboard, he yanks off his shirt before coming back to you, kissing you lightly.

“Like you don’t have girls everywhere fawning over you.”

“Only one girl I cared about fawning over me, sweetheart.” He says gruffly, but you can _feel_ the emotion behind it, and you really can’t believe this is happening.

He kisses you again, hard and desperate, and you lose track of time as his hands traverse your body, ridding you of your clothes and turning you into a writhing mess underneath him.

“Wanted this forever,” he mutters into your skin as he kisses your stomach, working his way lower. “Thought I was imagining the whole thing with you until I got that message.”

You groan, half in pleasure, half in embarrassment, “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” You ask breathlessly.

“Probably not.”

You both stop talking as he gets right where you want him, you arching backwards off the bed when his tongue makes contact where you’re so wet for him, his beard scratching at the inside of your thighs in a way that makes your hairs stand on end.

Your heart is pounding, but he doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath until you’re careening into your orgasm, hand reaching out blindly for his shoulders, anything to keep you steady through the onslaught.

“Christ,” you say, panting, and he grins before crawling up your body, nuzzling your neck as he goes.

You manage to regain use of your limbs as you catch your breath, and flip the two of you over, straddling Dean as he looks up at you in awe, his eyes wide and dark. “Fuck, yes.” He whispers, and you almost think he doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud. “Want you like this. Just like this. Take what you need, sweetheart.”

“Dean…” You groan as he reaches over to the nightstand, yanking the drawer open to find a condom, handing it to you when he finds it like it’s a million dollars. “Eager?”

“To finally see you like this? Yeah.” He responds quickly, making you blush. “Go on, sweetheart.”

You roll the condom onto him before raising yourself up slightly, sighing at the feel of him filling you up as you lower down slowly. “Shit,” you hiss through gritted teeth, and he arches his neck, his jaw tense, the long line of his neck exposed to you.

You lean down, not able to resist, and plant a series of open mouthed kisses along his jaw and adam’s apple until he grips your hip, hard.

“Move, baby. Please, move.”

You begin to grind down onto him, causing his entire body to tense beneath you, the muscles of his stomach contracting as he groans. After a few minutes, he sits upright, arms banding tight around your waist as he thrusts into you, the fast pace he sets causing you to see stars.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, and he drags his hand down the side of your face, thumb brushing over your full lower lip.

“That’s it, come on, you’re so close for me, I can feel it. I want to see you come for me.” He whispers, eyes dark and full of lust as they zero in on you.

The combination of the look in his eyes and the pleasure he’s giving you cause you to lose it, your vision going white as you let out a cry of his name and start to convulse around him. Dimly you’re aware that he’s coming too, his hands gripping you tight as the two of you continue to rock together, drawing it out.

“Good fucking lord,” he groans as he flops backwards down to the bed, taking you with him.

“We’re doing that again.” You say breathlessly as you move to lay next to him.

“Just say when,” he murmurs, rolling onto his side to so he can pull you close, pressing soft kisses to your neck until you’re sighing. “How mad are you going to be if I shave? Because this is getting fucking itchy.”

You laugh, “I think you’ll be hot even without the beard, Dean.”

He preens a little, that cocky smile back on his face even as his eyes drift closed. “Good to know.”

Later, after you’ve both had a nap and a shower, you get your phone and the photo you snuck of Dean while he was sleeping, and send a message to Ashley. And yes, you double check that it’s really to her this time.

_I meant to text you about my crush on Dean and accidentally sent it to him instead. Turned out alright. I owe you a drink or ten._


End file.
